Two Sides Of A Coin
by SnapesYukuai
Summary: When Captain Renard is kidnapped by a group of rogue wesen Nick has to go on a rescue mission to save the Prince. He has to immerse himself deeply into that side of a Grimm he fears above all... the Grimm of every wesen's nightmares! Will Sean survive the group's attempt to take his life and destroy his reign as ruler of wesen Portland? Renard WHUMP, Nick taking care
1. Mission

This is a gift for chibicheeberson, who asked if I would be willing to write a fic with Sean Whump instead of my usual and came up with a prompt I simply couldn't resist. So here's my take on that. Chibicheeberson, I hope I could make this into something you will enjoy. ;D Thank you for kicking my muse into gear... this ff has grown to much bigger proportions than I initially thought it would and was thrilling to write. ^,^

Also this is loosely inspired by the song 'Viking Death March' performed by Billy Talent. Ever since hearing that song I've wanted to write a Grimm ff about it and when Chibicheeberson gave me that prompt it was like my pod had found a lid. ; ) This also means that you will find a few lines of the song incorporated in the story... although the question remains, if you will be able to spot them. XD  
So have fun!

GRIMMGRIMM

Two Sides Of A Coin:

They have picked their moment well. They have attacked late in the evening, when he has gone home after working non stop for days. Two of his Detectives have investigated a tough case and as their Captain it's been his part to support them and keep politicians and media off their back.

Thus after a week of this he hasn't been better off than his men, practically dead on his feet. That was when they came for him.

There have been 9 of them – safety in numbers, they say. They certainly had that... along with a well of rage and criminal energy.

Sean prides himself on being a tough, seasoned fighter but in his state and being outnumbered by this margin he has no real chance.

At first he gives as good as he gets but then a man steps into fray, who surmounts even his own impressive height of 6ft 4'! It is a snow lowen. A fierce, merciless fighter – apparently their leader – who overpowers him with no difficulty at all. The last thing Renard knows before all goes black is agony beyond measure as they beat him within an inch of his life and the face of that lowen as he looks down on him with cruel satisfaction. He knows that face...

GRIMMGRIMM

Tuesday evening Sean Renard has been abducted by a group of rogue wesen. By Wednesday around noon it is clear that something is amiss. When the Captain doesn't show up at work Wednesday morning even though he has appointments to keep Marsha, his PA, tries to reach him on his cellphone. It goes to voice-mail every time she calls, which makes her grow a bit worried. If there is something to be said about her employer's qualities, it is punctuality, reliability and perfect organization of whatever he does.

Her next stop is Sergeant Wu, something like Renard's second, unofficial PA, who is almost always up to date with the man's schedule. But even all-knowing Wu comes up empty, so in her desperation she turns to Dt.s Griffin and Burkhardt, who seem to have an almost eery connection to their Captain sometimes.

They promise to drive by their bosses' condo as soon as they heed out investigating their latest case.

Nobody jokes about their Captain accidentally oversleeping after the last stressful days. It's not even that Renard wouldn't take such ribbing with good grace but rather that it simply doesn't happen. Ever.

GRIMMGRIMM

Sean comes around to find himself in a peculiar position. He wants to jerk upright, instincts screaming at him to prepare for a fight, but strong restraints hold him in place! He represses a growl. _Don't show weakness! Don't show a reaction!_

Instead he takes stock of the situation. He is alone but bound by thick leather bands into a kneeling position. There's enough room to hold his upper body erect but not any more. His wrists are bound behind his back, held in place by thick iron shackles.

And then there's pain! He feels each and every bruise, cut and fractured bone they've dealt him. It will hinder him. He knows this without a doubt.

Still, he should be able tune it out if need be. The only question, will that be enough? Carefully he tests bindings and shackles... sturdy but not unbreakable, at least not with zauberbiest strength to draw back on. Carefully surveying the room – a cellar with one door, no windows and flickering artificial lighting – the Prince settles in for a wait. He needs to gather his strength and find out what his enemies want from him. That, unfortunately, only leaves facing them.

The heavy door opens with a creak, allowing a group of men to enter. Renard watches them carefully, eyes hooded, expression unreadable. Already he recognizes a few of them, which sets his blood to boil with undulated fury. When all of them have stepped in, leering and growling at him when their wesen side gets the better of them, he is absolutely sure of what they are:

Banned individuals. Banned from his canton by him, the ruler of Portland, most upon threat of death.

"Prince Sean. How nice of you to join us. Took you long enough, don't you think?"

It is the white lowen. The man steps up to him, towering above him impossibly high, while hard golden eyes regard him with contempt and revulsion. Renard is an epitome of regal calm, letting absolutely nothing slip past his shields.

"Ivor Aeldridge. If my memory serves right I threw you out of my canton, promising you a slow and painful death, should you ever return."

"Yes, well, I returned anyway. I will take your place, Renard, and together with my companions I will establish a new, better rule than that of an aberration like you. And, of course, I am curious as to how you plan to kill me... seeing as you are a bit incapacitated right now."

The Prince's eyes are chips of icy green when he cocks his head, entrapping the lowen in his stare like a predator his prey.

"There's always an opportunity. And I do keep my promises."

Hearing that cold drawl no one would guess that Sean Renard is bound and kneeling on the ground. There is a calm about him that is downright unnerving. Even though he has to look up to do so, he catches the eyes of each and every creature in the room, confronting them with a silent promise of violence and death. There's shift among the group, a ripple of fear and nervousness. Inwardly the lowen snarls in rage.

 _Damn the bastard Prince and his self-control!_

"Down!" Without warning he backhands his enemy, delivering a brutal blow with no restraint. The impact is sudden and nearly knocks him out! His head whips around, tendons and muscles of his neck strained nearly beyond endurance!

"Let's take it down!"

These sharply hissed words penetrate the fog of pain only slowly, registering in Sean's mind with delay. He hears cruel satisfaction, an edge that sounds almost loving but is pure sadism. He swallows thickly, blood sliding down his throat while bile is just a step away from rising.

He jerks his head back when a hand appears in his field of vision but he is too slow. His chin is taken, pulled upward to make him look up and expose his throat to all assembled in a gesture of absolute domination.

"We will show no mercy on evolution's mistake!" Ivor's voice carries clearly when he turns his head to face the group. That show of confidence is like a calming balm for his companions.

"He is weak, an aberration of nature! A wesen mongrel that will never surpass his dirty heritage! Let's put his head on a stake for all to see!"

At those last words he turns back to the fallen bastard Prince, eyes alight with blood-lust.

But Sean Renard is far from defeated. He may be badly beaten and humiliated but he will wait for his chance and then he will kill this unworthy worm of a being. He looks Aeldridge dead in the eye, his own blazing with such dark intent that some of the other wesen shift and step back in fear. There are blutbaden, coyotl and shakals among others. They all take up his scent. The blood, the pain even, but also a promise of merciless revenge, contained in the smell of an unrivalled predator.

"I see we have to work on you a bit more, don't we? We cannot have you all defiant and disobedient."

Sean wills his heartbeat to slow down to a sedate pace and his face to remain emotionless. He knows, it is either this or letting terror consume him.

GRIMMGRIMM

It is on the aforementioned Wednesday at noon that Nick and Hank come across their Captain's car in the parking garage of the building where his condo is located. It is unlocked and the door on the driver's side is not even fully closed. That in itself is worrisome but what sends shivers of shared fear down their spines are blood smears on the floor!

Hank squats down to examine them more closely while Nick looks for other clues. He just searches the garage for security cameras and such, which may have recorded the very act, when Hank calls him.

"Nick, come back over here and look at the smears. This doesn't look good at all!"

The Grimm joins his partner and after taking a close look he can only confirm Hank's suspicion. They look at each other and when Nick whispers "To me this looks like these have been made by claws sliding across the floor." Hank can only nod numbly.

"This is wesen related as sure as I am a G... cop."

They contemplate if they should make this an official case or not but in the end opt for keeping things quiet. If this is as big as they think, then they do well not to pull humans into it. It is a relief that Hank and Wu are both kehrseite-schlich-kennen by now, enabling them to help Nick in his search.

So they explain things to the Sergeant and set him up on discreetly looking through the building's camera footage while Hank will search for their Captain through Police channels and Nick will talk to his many contacts in the wesen world. Wu will also fabricate some calming and totally reasonable explanation for Marsha and the rest of the station while the three of them work on saving him from behind the scenes.

Camera footage doesn't yield any information other than time of abduction. Whoever has taken their Captain has been clever enough to deactivate the security system. The only upside: By establishing when cameras stopped working and when they started up again they can narrow down a time frame for the actual attack. Hank has been able to get a CCTV picture of the kidnapper's car but neither does it show a clear view of its occupants nor does running the plate number through PPD database generate a name. Obviously that plate has been fake one.

Nick has collected some information pertaining his bosses' abduction but all he has been able to gather is too vague to lead them to the perpetrators and more importantly to their Captain!

GRIMMGRIMM

In the end it is actually Nick's mum who mails him the last piece of the puzzle that is Renard's sudden disappearance. No matter how many allies Nick has made in the wesen world Kelly Burkhardt's net of spies still surpasses his own by far!

The text goes as follows:

 _Needless to say, I got your mail, son, and I looked into what you asked me to._

 _I have come across a man named Ivor Aeldridge. He is a white lowen and, if my contact speaks the truth, banned from the canton of Portland upon threat of death. Apparently he has recruited other rogue wesen to instigate a rebellion against Portland's ruler. I am sure you know who that is._

 _Aeldridge seems to have a special agenda against that Prince of yours and it has become known in certain circles that he has made his move._

 _If you want to save your Captain, you should hurry and look into what buildings Aeldridge has rented in the last few months. Oh, and most importantly, don't get yourself killed only because of saving some bastard royal, who is also a wesen to top it off!_

 _I know you are shaking your head at my words and I am aware that you have grown something of a soft spot for that Prince, but don't let that cloud your judgement! Men have been killed for lesser things and now that I could finally reveal myself to you, I intent to keep things the way they are for the unforeseeable future._

There's no greeting at the end, nothing like 'take care', but Nick has learned to read between the lines concerning his mother's way of talk and behaviour.

Nick does as his mother has suggested and – calling Hank to search Police database for recent rental records – they discover that someone by the name of Ivor Aeldridge has, indeed, rented property on the outskirts of Portland. It is an old industrial building which has been rented months ago and been paid for in advance – cash it seems – to leave no traces.

Hank is not enthused when Nick says that he will go alone but his partner's reasoning is sound no matter how dangerous a plan it entails.

This is a matter of Renard's reign over wesen Portland and that means Nick has to go about this as a Grimm not as a cop. Not even Monroe will accompany him on this mission (no matter how much of a tantrum he has put up when presented with Nick's plan).

This does not mean that Hank, Wu and Monroe are no help, however. Information-wise they give him everything they can find so that when Nick sets out in the early hours of Thursday he is equipped with information about each and every wesen that is likely to turn up in the lowen's rebellion group!

At last they agree, that if they haven't heard from Nick by Thursday evening, they will set everything into motion for a saving mission of greater scale.

Nick fetches his battle-axe from the trailer and silently steels himself for what will be an exercise not only in acting but in unprecedented cold-bloodedness for him.

GRIMMGRIMM

Sean spits blood onto the floor and rolls his head slowly to regain his equilibrium after yet another punch to his face.

Aeldridge's first blow most likely fractured his cheekbone, those that have been following just furthered the damage. A moment later all this fades to the background, though, as the door flies open, practically bursting off its hinges, and there he is, the Grimm of all their nightmares!

Eyes liquid black, shouldering a battle axe, he has a coyotl grabbed by the throat and pulls the struggling beast along when he steps into the room.

Renard watches their reaction, notes which of them snarl in challenge and which draw back in fear and he is sure the Grimm does, too.

When Nicholas Burkhardt speaks up, there's no urgency in his words, no hint that he perceives any of the assembled wesen as danger or has taken note of Renard. The coyotl still twitches in his grip, going still all of a sudden when the hand around his throat tightens its hold just a fraction.

"I've heard you are hell bent on usurping the designated ruler in order to put up some system of ochlocracy?"

 _Ochlocracy,_ Sean's politically trained mind supplies, _a form of rule instigated by a mob or mass of people... tyranny of the majority... It seems Burkhardt did his homework._

"That said, let me tell you, choosing _this one_ to guard your door was your first stupid decision."

With an offhanded gesture he throws his captive into their middle – a ripple of muscles, a show of power – leaving him remaining where he landed, winded and coughing.

" _You_!"

He has to give it to Aeldridge. The tall, imposing lowen does not show even an edge of fear.

"I have heard of you. You are the Grimm of Portland. The one who befriends wesen and shies away from killing." A dark chuckle. Ivor turns around slowly to face Nick, woging and showing the entirety of his magnificent frame, the pure white fur, those piercing yellow eyes.

"A white lowen? You are certainly pretty."

Sean keeps his face completely blank, but when his captor snarls at the insult, he is certain that Burkhardt knows how to push each and every button of that man's ego.

"Yes, I am the Grimm of Portland. Which leads me to the question of what legitimation you can name for taking over this canton?"

Another chuckle, made deep and gravelly by a lowen's vocal chords.

"What do you think, little Grimm? It is the rule of the strongest that backs me up! And first I will kill this one for he is weak! An abnormality of nature that I intent to put down!"

His words drip derision when he throws a sideways glance at the half-zauberbiest, kneeling on the ground, bound, bloodied and nearly broken. Or so he thinks. Nick knows that one should never make the mistake of underestimating Sean Renard.

"We do have a problem then."

He takes a single step forward, axe still shouldered unconcernedly. In his periphery vision he notices other wesen drawing back, leaving confrontation to their leader, while the proud lowen steps up to take the challenge.

"Let's take it down!"

What happens next is not what Nick expects to:

Ivor does not strike out against him but turns to Renard, moving with lightning speed, mighty prank lifted to deliver a fatal, vicious blow! Nick processes all this in the space of a moment, knows that his own face reveals too much, even as the Prince's eyes widen a fraction before shutters fall to leave that angular face devoid of emotion. Nick makes his move, praying that he isn't too late!

Ivor feels a wild rush of triumph surge through him when deadly claws near the bastard's throat. He has taken the Grimm by surprise! He will never reach him before he has killed the aberration and levelled a path for his rule!

He can practically _smell_ blood and gore, can nearly _feel_ the man's throat giving way under his assault...!

Someone barrels into him, his claws catch onto something! His wrist is caught, the grip bruising, breaking!

 _What the hell?! That cannot be!_

A single twist and bones give way. He is driven back, away from the bastard. His own snarl of pain and rage is drowned in the general cry of outrage from his band of wesen. Still they do not come forward. Damn them!

Ivor stumbles to a halt, pushes back agony, ready to fight.

 _But why is no attack coming?_

He looks up to see the Grimm calmly standing between him and their captive. Blood drips down his arm where claws caught flesh but otherwise he is unharmed and unperturbed.

 _He could have killed me with his axe, if he was fast enough to reach me... why doesn't he have?_

"Not such a smart move. I cannot let you do this, you know?"

Somehow his voice sounds off. There has been mocking and menace before but this...?

"I cannot let you kill him, because I have waited to do so for as long as I know what depravity Renard hides behind that noble facade. It is difficult, tough, to kill a Police Captain. And that does not even take into account that he is the bastard son of one of the seven houses."

Even Sean Renard, weathered and hardened by years of deception and intrigues, feels a sliver of doubt creep up on him. Burkhardt is good. So damn good that he cannot be completely sure of his allegiances. The wesen in him recognizes a predator, a cold blooded killer. And his accusations are not unfounded, either, aren't they? He has hurt Nick deeply once. He has ordered his aunt to be killed at the very least. Who knows how much anger has remained, hidden under what he has taken for forgiveness?

"What do you mean? What do you want, Grimm?!"

Aeldridge's growl shakes Renard out of his disquieting thoughts. He needs to stay alert, least he loses his life in this struggle for predominance!

"I want the kill! Of course I cannot simply let you establish reign as you see fit, but I may be willing to make a deal."

He lets the challenge hang in the air, waiting for signs of an attack. When all they do is growl and threaten he continues calmly:

"I get to kill the bastard Prince, you get a few concessions from me pertaining your rule of Portland."

"Why should I take you up on that? I could simply kill you. Look around, you are outnumbered! Don't you want to be an obedient little Grimm and pledge your allegiance to me so that I may spare your worthless life?"

At 6 ft 6' a fully woged lowen is an impressive sight but Nick is not intimidated... at least not on the outside. He mustn't be! All depends on if he can get his act together. No less than the Captain's life is at stake, not to mention his own. So let the games begin:

The Grimm cocks his head just slightly, liquid black stare boring into them. A slow smile appears on his face, chilling and turning utterly feral as he continues looking at them.

"Do you really think I am outnumbered by your bunch? That I could not kill you all?"

There's a touch of mocking pity. Tension mounts in the room – woging, snarling. It all reaches a crescendo when one of the blutbaden surges forward to kill him, snapping under pressure!

Renard has an open view on the events unfolding. Burkhardt waits, body poised for action, gauges speed and reflexes of the other man and finally moves with absolute precision:

It is a single, perfect swipe of his axe that ends the wesen's life, spraying them all with blood.

 _Decapitare..._

Unconsciously Renard holds his breath. He has always known that one did well not to underestimate the Grimm but this ultimately drives home to what lengths he is willing to go... to do what...? To protect? To take revenge? He cannot be sure.

There's stunned silence in the wake of this. They are moving on a knife's edge, either steering toward death or success depending on how that bunch of rogue wesen reacts.

Nick does not give an inch. Inwardly he is coiled tight as a spring, afraid that he may well has manoeuvred them into death and disgusted at this unnecessary kill, but not on the outside. There is no other way. The lowen regards his fallen comrade without an outward show of emotion, playing it close to his chest just as Nick does.

"I see you are serious. You may have your kill. Why not get started at you being my punishing arm, acting out my will. I can be generous, if I feel so inclined."

Ivor aims for calm superiority and manages by a scrape. Nick inclines his head.

 _Good. Aeldridge unwittingly works on losing his cronies' support, designating himself as their lone ruler so openly._

"I am glad you see it that..."

"What do you mean, _your_ will?!"

A male Klaustreich with an ugly scar across his face steps into the middle, a low threatening growl rumbling through his chest. In a single moment the atmosphere changes from tense to explosive as the two felines face each other.

"How dare you act as our ruler?! We didn't decide yet on who would take that position!"

Claws twitch, whiskers flicker and fangs are bared. It is a stark contrast:

An angry, agitated Klaustreich slowly circling Aeldridge, who is an epitome of calm. His stance is strong, almost regal and although he just follows his adversary with his eyes, everyone in the room can feel the power he exudes.

"Beyron, what did you think when I recruited you? That I didn't have a plan that exceeded slaying a worthless bastard? I have a vision for this city! I will make it a stronger community, that honours the old ways! Any of you, who wants to be part of that, will accept my rule, anyone who wants to challenge my reign..." He trails off, letting them imagine the rest.

"So _do_ you want to challenge me?"

In response Beyron snarls and charges at the lowen! This time Aeldridge moves with deadly grace, showing what he can do when he isn't caught off guard like before. He ducks away under the assault and twists his body minutely. Then he attacks! Keeping the broken right behind his back his left strikes lightning fast. They all can only watch as claws tear into flesh, bury deep and twist! A strangled cry echoes through the cellar room. Beyron tries to deal a last blow but is too late. The giant lowen grabs him and throws him onto his back before his claw hits true again. With a triumphant roar he towers over his challenger, watching light leave cat like eyes as his own glow a pale yellow momentarily. Finally Ivor pulls back his hand, dripping with warm blood, and rises to full height again.

"Is there anyone else?"

His voice is a deep rumble, primal and powerful. Silence greets his words. It seems the thirst for rebellion has been stilled.

"Rats, fighting for scraps!"

Renard's sneer is like a whip slash in the wake of total quiet. Disgust shows clearly in the timber of his voice and his cold gaze. Ivor moves forward, not willing to let the twisted Prince ruin his show of strength but just like that Nick is in his way, moving into his personal space. It is, more than anything, the aura of a predator surrounding him that keeps Ivor from attacking right away. On the contrary, the giant lowen stops as if he's met an invisible barrier.

"Going back on your word already?"

Aeldridge seizes him up. Another growl begins to rumble deep in his chest echoing through the Grimm's own torso as he faces Ivor head on. Finally the taller man relents, not stepping back but losing some of his threatening demeanour.

"Get on with it then, Grimm, before I decide I am bored by your little game."

Sean braces himself. No matter that they just escaped death, he is not all sure that his own is not still planned by both parties! He observes the group closely. They are eyeing the exchange with varying emotions. There is admiration and loyalty for Ivor but more and more expressions of apprehension and ire mix in. This is good. It may well be that kind of wound that will become a thorn in the side of Ivor Aeldridge. He just needs to play his cards right.

Sean uses the fragile protection Burkhardt's position provies to his own advantage, planting doubt in their minds yet again.

"He speaks about trust, but make no mistake. He's shaking your hand while he spits in your face!"

Sean is acutely aware, that the only thing saving him from a violent death right now is Nick's unwavering presence. He sees uncertainty creep into their eyes, though, and that makes this risk worthwhile to take.

Nick waits just long enough for them to get the meaning of Renard's words.

 _Aeldridge uses you! He will drop you the moment you have done what is necessary to establish his reign!_

"Let's proceed, shall we? No sense in delaying the inevitable." In many ways Nick's statement is so much worse than Renard's. There's no emotion, only deadly intent. _What will happen?_

Sean isn't sure. At this point he doesn't know, if he will get a chance to survive or if he will die at the hands of his Grimm Detective and it makes his gut twist with dread no matter how well he hides the fact! Each and every injury, the pain and exhaustion, everything slides back into focus as if to mock him with his helplessness. Nostrils flared he takes a deep breath.

 _Show no weakness!_

GRIMMGRIMM

"What is this, self-appointed prophets and their doomsday charade?"

Renard snaps waspishly, looking up into Nick's unforgiving eyes, losing nothing of his cool. If all else fails he always has his iron self control to draw back on. He may be kneeling on the ground, bound and bruised but he will be damned if he goes down grovelling at anyone's feet!

Nick chuckles darkly.

"Their doomsday charade? Certainly."

This newest slight at the group is met by angry growls and roars but Nick doesn't take his eyes off of the Prince. He studies every detail, every bruise, slash and scratch to gauge the man's strength for what is to come.

"Ours? Well, you could call it the beginning of the end, if you felt so inclined."

His gaze never strays from his Captain's as he stands for once towering over him. He watches a jolt going through him when he recognizes the phrase, green eyes holding a sudden light of understanding.

"You know what this is about, don't you, bastard? And now be a dignified Prince and face execution with an open eye."

The group of rogue wesen closes in on them as Nick almost lovingly touches his axe's blade, smearing blood already clinging to it, and Renard draws himself up to his full height, proud and erect even when kneeling on the ground. He holds himself ready as the Grimm raises his weapon. It will be a horizontal swipe just like the one which beheaded the murderous blutbad.

Renard pulls back deep into himself, preparing to tap into wesen powers and making peace with himself. He is almost sure that he's interpreted Burkhardt's words correctly but if not... well, he is prepared. Meanwhile the Grimm adjusts his stance, focusing completely on his task while never letting attention slip away from the group and Ivor.

"Prepare yourself, Sean Renard."

In his voice there is nothing left of the Nicholas Burkhardt he has known for four years now. This is purely Grimm.

 _Decapitare...!_

He cannot shake off the thought as the axe is swung in a single powerful stroke. Burkhardt is fast! Faster than he would ever have thought had he not seen...

With chilling clarity the half-zauberbiest realises why the younger man has provoked those wesen over and over again until one of them gave him reason to go in for the kill.

 _He has planned all this so that I may be able to gauge his speed level! He has killed a man simply to equip me with the knowledge to survive!_

The Prince mobilises his powers, ducking down faster than any human could and breaking restraints and shackles with a mighty outward movement of his arms! A woosh of air just above his head tells him how closely he has escaped death! Intense pain flares through his body but he pushes it down, focusing on the ripple of his woge instead and on the burning rage inside. A primal roar mingling with a strangled cry of unknown origin, a little shake of his huge frame to get rid of his restraints, then he is free! He surges forward into chaos of a battle just about to begin. There's bloodshed and cries and almost overwhelming instinctual urges!

Bastard Prince and Grimm fight side by side as if they have never done anything else. A short glance reveals that Nick is already creating havoc among them. He uses battle axe, elbows and knees, every limb a weapon controlled to perfection by the Grimm. Nick is not the only one dealing damage, though. While Ivor keeps to the sidelines like a general sending his men into battle, Sean attacks with all that he's got! It is either focusing wholly on fighting or succumbing to that knot of agony that is his battered body screaming for help.

 _Oh no, I won't go down! I will fight, I will punish and I will get revenge!_

With every moment that Aeldridge holds back he loses his cronies support and if what he sees of the Grimm holds true then Nick is only enforcing that image by driving the white lowen away from battle every time he wants to take part!

All too soon wesen known for their blood-thirst are backing away from that devil of a zauberbiest. This is not who they've beaten 'til unconsciousness a day ago, this is a hellish creature unleashed! Renard knows no mercy. Not that they deserve any! These vile creatures have once been banned from his canton for the worst of crimes – murder, torture, gorging on human flesh, you name it.

Nick sees his Captain fight and is torn. Anyone with an untrained eye would not be able to tell that the man is just burning through his last reserves but he knows better!

It is clear in the way he favours his right side just the tiniest bit or how he narrows his eyes slightly every time he puts too much weight on his left knee. Minute details revealing his true state to the Grimm, who knows him more intimately than he has ever thought possible. Renard is badly injured and he needs to protect him!

On the other hand this is something pertaining the man's rule of Portland. It is a battle he needs to fight on his own, if he is to keep a claim on power. Nick can support his Captain, can act as what Grimms once were before they descended into becoming vicious killers, but he can not keep Renard out of this battle. He can only make sure the Prince survives.

Thus Nick puts everything that he's got into fighting those wesen. Those who show signs of surrender he knocks out well and truly, those who come at him with an intent to kill meet a quick end. The Grimm sustains a few injuries himself but never does his focus slip from the task at hand... and never does he let the giant lowen get near his Captain... until the very end.

When Ivor sees his carefully made plans fall to pieces hot rage fills him! He has sent his men, killers all of them, and yet that Bastard Prince and the trice damned deceptive Grimm gain the upper hand! It is time that he himself joins the fray. He has done it once when Renard has been in better shape. He will kill him, slowly and painfully, to make them see who the true leader of this canton is!

The more often he tries to get to the Prince, though, the more often he is driven away by a fierce assault from the Grimm. The man is toying with him! Why doesn't he try to kill him, only keep him away from his boss?

The answer sends a shiver down his spine. Surveying the room already filled with numerous downed wesen it all becomes clear: Nick Burkhardt is biding time so that the Bastard and he will face each other alone! Be that as it may, he will not lose that fight!

With a growl of repressed anger he stays back, unknowingly loosing his group's support completely, and waits for his moment.

More and more wesen either seek safety in surrender or go into a killing frenzy when they realise that their cause is nil and void.

At last only three men remain. The half-zauberbiest turns slowly to face his adversary. He is panting but doesn't try to hide the fact. Instead he shakes out blood-smeared hands in an unconcerned gesture, making droplets of blood build a crimson pattern on the floor. He pins Ivor with an intense stare, green eyes telling of bloodshed and violence.

"Here we meet again. If I remember correctly I promised to kill you. As I said before, I keep my promises."

His normally smooth drawl has been turned gravelly by the zauberbiest coming to the forefront but that only makes his words sound all the more sinister.

Aeldridge looks as if he wants to snap out a response but in the end he goes for slowly circling Renard, leaving Nick to watch apprehensively as the two begin their deadly battle.

Despite their respective injuries they are frighteningly even matched. The lowen is healthier on a general scale and a tough fighter but Renard has always known how to practice self-control beyond the average. Seeing the zauberbiest now not even Nick can detect that the last day has left any traces on him. Renard has well and truly detached himself from any ailments, leaving his mind free from debilitating pain and enabling cold rage to fuel his actions.

Claws meet fists, kicks, punches and elbow checks are exchanged! Neither is stupid enough to waste energy on talking. Renard gains even more wounds but Ivor is not far behind. His Captain deals out damage on a scale beyond what Nick has thought possible! This is what seeing Portland's ruler mete out justice is like!

Still, the man is tiring and it is an irrevocable fact that he ignores his bodily limits. Renard needs to end this fight quickly! He needs to...!

Just as he thinks that, Ivor gains the upper hand!

"Noo!" Nick cannot stop the sound from escaping, when he sees claws of the lowen's left paw bury deeply into his Captain's shoulder! For a moment time freezes. Nick wants to surge forward into battle and Ivor's eyes are alight with crazed triumph as he stares down on Renard, whose face is for once contorted with pain. Slowly he sinks to his knees.

Then, before either Grimm or lowen can do anything, the zauberbiest grabs Ivor's throat with his right, pulls him toward himself and lays everything he's got left into a punch with his other hand! A purely primal roar rips from his throat as his fist buries itself deeply and brutally into his enemies stomach. Both know immediately that something vital has torn inside. Aeldridge opens his mouth in a silent scream as their positions reverse themselves. The Prince rises up until he towers above his former captor, still clutching his throat in a bruising grip. Never do his eyes leave those of the lowen as light fades from them.

Sean does not need to say anything. His unforgiving gaze says it all as he forces Ivor Aeldridge to look up at him upon dying.

 _Down on your knees you don't look so tall..._

"I asked you to stop but you still wanted more. Now face your punishment."

Only when Ivor is kept upright solely by Renard's grip – no life left in the once mighty lowen rebel – the Prince does let go; only when turning human again upon death do Ivor's claws leave Renard's battered body.

It is over... finally over.

Standing there victorious Nick sees a man beaten within an inch of his life but still fighting, still strong, while the Grimm in him recognizes a seasoned warrior worthy of his respect.

No one says a word. Nick simply steps over to a small table and retrieves his Captain's personal affects, put there by Aldridge and his group, while the other man regains his equilibrium.

Among the things are his cellphone and a handkerchief, still pristine despite everything. A few other things join the assembly, stored in the Grimm's pockets for now. Finally he goes back to the Prince, first handing over the handkerchief, giving him opportunity to clean his hands off blood – his own as much as that of his enemies – then he hands over the phone.

"You want to make a few phone calls because of this?"

The Grimm encompasses the room full of downed wesen in a sweeping gesture. He does not ask, if he is okay or other such things. They both know fairly well in what state Renard is right now. He nods silent assent, lips compressed to a thin line. Opening his mouth would mean moaning in pain, or maybe even screaming... he isn't all that sure at this point. He cannot let that happen, though, so he scraps together his last ounces of self-control, steels himself and finally makes those calls his Detective has hinted at. Nick uses this opportunity to text Hank, Monroe and Wu to tell them that he's got everything under control and their Captain, or in Monroe's case the Prince, is safe.

30 minutes later Renard's men have arrived to do... God knows what… and they are ready to leave that hell hole of a place.


	2. Aftermath

Now that the action part is done we get to the whumpy part... and to lots of care taking...

GRIMMGRIMM

"Why did you do that?"

"Why did I do what?"

"Why did you help me? You could have easily watched them do away with me."

"You are my Captain. And you may be a shrewd bastard sometimes but you are still the designated ruler of Portland's wesen community. Even all other things aside I couldn't let some rogue wesen overturn the established order. I am the Grimm of Portland and wesen should be able to count on me upholding the law."

"Not that I don't appreciate the general sentiment of your little speech but tell me, do you _like_ insulting my heritage at every turn?"

At the end his tone becomes a cold drawl, skilfully disguising pain and weariness.

 _Of course he would take that as an insult... should have known it._

"I didn't mean it that way and you know it. Wouldn't do that... I know a bit too much about a problematic heritage for that. Would be a bit hypocritical, wouldn't it?"

The Captain scoffs.

"You wouldn't be the first one to do it anyway."

He still looks a bit disgruntled but overall Nick's honest words seem to have appeased him.

They drive on in silence, only sounds being the car engine as they speed along the road and Renard's carefully measured breathing. The man has taken a hellish beating... or a few most likely.

Nick is well aware of this but doesn't make a fuss. If there is to be any chance of actually helping him, it will have to be on the man's own terms. Upon asking Renard has made it very clear that he won't go to hospital so Nick has accepted that he will be the one to treat injuries and such – whether the zauberbiest approves or not.

GRIMMGRIMM

When at last they pull into the parking garage of Renard's housing complex there's the tiniest sound of a relieved exhale. Nick understands the sentiment completely. His Captain needs to re-establish control over things and his own flat is what makes him feel safest right now despite what has happened down here in the parking lot.

They have taken the elevator opening to the garage as is possible only for inhabitants of the building, bypassing front desk and unwelcome attention by that way. Sean moves carefully, mindful of his many injuries – an array covering almost anything from bruises to slash wounds – and he is all too aware of the presence of his Grimm Detective. When he somehow manages to take and use the key that the Grimm hands him to open the front door Nick moves in with him – a silent, unassuming guard and yet exuding an aura of protectiveness and strength. He cannot make up his mind about that one. He guards his privacy and dignity fiercely but at the same time he knows that before long he will need Burkhardt's help. And isn't that a bitter thought?

Sean is bone tired and he hurts all over. He wants to sit down; _needs_ to do so least he take a most embarrassing fall, all for the Grimm to watch. He steers toward his couch in the living room fully intending to crash there and not rise for a very long time. He will just dismiss his Detective. Maybe he doesn't need his help so urgently, after all. At least that's what he tells himself.

And then he'll hole up alone to lick his wounds.

The slightest restraining touch at his elbow stops him. He turns to Nick, pins him down with an unforgiving glare, waiting for an explanation.

"Believe me, you don't want that, Sir. Sleeping on a couch is a killer even on normal nights."

The half-zauberbiest's narrow eyed stare says clearly that Nick doesn't know a fuck about what he wants but he complies grudgingly.

"I can move without your help, Detective!" He cannot keep himself from snapping. Lashing out at the Grimm is better than to admit how bad he feels.

"I am aware, Sir. And yet I would like to make sure you reach your bedroom... I worked a bit too hard to get you out of there to leave your well-being to chance now." All this is said without a shred of arrogance or disdain and as so often it is this openness – without hidden agendas or deception – that pulls Renard out of his protective shell.

GRIMMGRIMM

He lowers himself onto the bed - carefully, slowly – sits down and closes his eyes for an instant. Hands settle on shoulder and upper arm, not even pushing but rather resting there heavily. He opens his eyes - wants to unleash his wrath at being manhandled – but what he sees upon facing Nick stops him short:

There's a silent question in his clear eyes; he's waiting for permission. Nothing of the hardened, cold-blooded Grimm apparent now. On the contrary, he sees softness and instead of pity there is a whole lot of empathy. Yes, Burkhardt has been through his own trials and born the brunt of those more than once.

For a moment a battle is fought, within Sean's own mind mostly, then he stops resisting. His back touches pillows, put there to keep him half reclined instead of lying flat. He gives a low grunt of pain, suddenly beyond a point where he needs to hide things from Nick.

 _Hell, he has seen me bound, beaten and bleeding on the floor! What does it hurt, if he sees me in pain now?_

Despite the discomfort, lying down is a relief beyond measure. He lets his eyes fall closed again while wondering at his lack of self-preservation.

 _How do I know that the Grimm won't use that to his advantage?_

It is just a fleeting thought, denied just as quickly as it's come up.

 _Nick could have beheaded me tonight. He didn't do it._

His shoes are pulled off. He lets it happen, surprising them both.

While carefully helping the zauberbiest to rest, Nick studies him intently. Frankly he is worried! Pain is edged deeply in those angular features paired with a touch of wariness. Renard needs help, that much is clear. What he doesn't know is why the Prince has chosen to trust him enough to let him help. Well, he doesn't intent to abuse that trust.

"Will you let me unbutton your shirt, Sir? I need to take a look at your injuries."

He keeps his voice low and his tone easy.

Sean is aware that his Detective aims to calm him as if he were some distraught victim but he cannot muster up enough strength to bristle at that. Nick has been a cop long enough to act on instinct when faced with certain situations. It is only natural for him, it is training deeply ingrained in them all, Sean himself being no exception.

"Yes." Permission is given grudgingly, reluctantly, but given nonetheless.

Nick needs no more prompting. Sharp green eyes follow his every move now, keep track of everything that he does. He tugs the shirt out of slacks, opens buttons and slowly reveals a broad expense of bronze skin, littered with nasty bruises, abrasions and gashes. For all this, though, despite lying before him battered and weakened, the Prince of Portland still looks like a magnificent creature of prey. A lean body, strength and agility coiled within hardened muscles... there's no doubt about the power contained in the 'biest.

At last his eyes wander to Renard's face, heavily bruised and swollen as it is, holding his Captain's gaze and waiting for permission to take yet another step. For a long moment he is regarded, tested maybe, before the zauberbiest closes his eyes and sinks back into the pillows just a bit further.

Gentle hands ghost over skin, touch bruises, gauge the severity of wounds and check for broken bones. Nick's hands are warm and reassuring in a way that Sean will never admit to out loud.

Sean cannot help flinching sometimes but Nick gives no indication that he has noticed… which he sure as hell has. When the Grimm comes upon a cracked rib for example and lastly when those careful questing fingers come to rest on his swollen and bruised cheek. He's quite sure that in addition to everything else a fractured cheekbone may play a role.

Other than that he stays still and lets Nick take the lead while inwardly shaking his head at himself.

 _I cannot believe that I lie back willingly while Burkhardt tends to my injuries._

And yet he lets it happen.

"Do you have a first aid kit or something similar somewhere in the house?"

The softly issued question draws him out of an exhausted haze.

"Yes. Cupboard above the sink in the bathroom. A wooden box of moderate size along with a metal one."

Even now his answer is precise and to the point.

Sean hears Nick move away from the bed. A cold shiver runs down his spine but he cannot pinpoint why. It is like something is missing all of a sudden. He pushes the thought away listening to muted sounds of movement instead.

Some time later the bed dips again and a box is gently placed on the nightstand. He opens his eyes to find his Grimm giving the myriad of bottles and small jars from the wooden box a first cursory glance while his hands seem to kneed some kind of cloth between them. A small smile appears when he notices Sean watching him.

"Here. Careful, this is very cold but it will make your face hurt less."

He takes up what must be a dish towel containing crushed ice and very gently presses it onto his cheek and jaw, molding it to fit perfectly. At first the zauberbiest hisses in pain and shock but after a moment or two of getting used to the sensation he feels cold seep in and numb deep ache. If this kind gesture has surprised the Prince, Nick's next action surprises him even more:

His Detective takes up his left hand with his own warmer ones and guides it to rest upon the ice pack.

"Can you hold it there?"

Renard gives a grunt of assent.

"Good." Warm approval, relief. Then silence and a bit of tinkering.

„I'm afraid you need to coach me through this."

Nick is looking through his box of wesen remedies and now looks down on him, gaze apologetic, asking for advice as much as making sure he is still with him without asking out loud.

„Is there something _special_ in here to clean wounds with or do I just take an antiseptic from your general first aid kit?"

The Prince wants to rise to get a better look but before he can so much as push himself up Nick is there, leaning over him, keeping him down. The wesen in him snarls at being restrained! He isn't sure if he bares his teeth in a growl but he must have shown something because the Grimm's gaze softens marginally.

„Please don't. You've shown enough strength today… and you have fought enough battles. There's no need to do more.… (He looks unsure of himself now.) Just… just take it easy. I'll show you the bottles, then you can tell me, which is the right one."

Nick's gaze has turned imploring, which makes him look impossibly young, and somehow easier for Sean to let go of his pride and need to show independence. A nearly imperceptible sigh, then he relents. Nick is doing what he can to make him comfortable. He is handing him control over the situation even while he has to lie back. Despite everything Sean is aware of that and deep down appreciates the Grimm's effort.

Bottle after bottle is shown to him until they have found the right one. That done the Captain's eyes slide shut again, surely steeling himself for what is to come.

When zaubertrank drenched gauze swabs meet open wounds Sean manages to keep quiet and absolutely still. Tension makes him feel coiled as tight as a bow string but he gives nothing away. It is basic instinct ingrained in him. He isn't even aware of doing it. It's simply part of who he is.

This goes on for quite some time. Burkhardt is careful as he cleans each and every cut and slash but undulating pain is quickly reaching a level that is agonising! While the Prince uses up his last reserves to keep his pain hidden Nick keeps a careful eye on him, acutely aware of what his boss is doing. At first he doesn't say anything. Maybe Renard will stop this nonsense once he gets that it will only exhaust him further….

No such luck. It seems even Sean Renard can reach a point where he is no longer able to think objectively.

There's a sigh from beside him.

„Stop!"

This sudden outburst startles the zauberbiest so much that his eyes snap open and he gasps in both surprise and pain! A blush creeps onto paler than normal skin.

 _Not only did I lose control, I didn't even notice Burkhardt stopped treatment! What is the matter with me?!_

It angers him but Nick's next words drive such emotions cleanly out of the window!

„Just stop trying to hide that you are hurting! I know that all this is fucking awful to bear and I won't think you weak no matter if you show that or not!"

"I didn't...!" Honest surprise.

"Of course you did!"

There's a moment of tense silence broken only by a weary sigh from Nick.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. I didn't realize... that you didn't do this on purpose... I mean, that you weren't aware of what you are doing. Well, I'll tell you now: You are exhausting yourself by hiding your pain. You don't need to, you know. You've been through enough, just let me... take care of you."

He trails off, surprised and embarrassed at his own admission. Sean stares at him for once unable to hide his own astonishment behind a dispassionate mask.

"I will... try." There's honest concern on Nick's expressive face which in turn mellows that hard core inside the zauberbiest which would lash out to protect himself against emotional hurt.

"That's all I ask."

That sincere, boyish half-smile again. Nick takes up another swab and Sean braces himself... without trying to hide his discomfort, though.

Sterile gauze is taped in place to cover wounds and gashes. Later on Nick will bandage everything but for now he needs to be able to reach all those bruises.

He takes up a jar that's labelled 'bruise balm' and reads through the instructions of application. It's reassuring to know that even in the wesen world there is an equivalent to package inserts like there is with human meds.

Coming to an end he cannot help grimacing in sympathy. This won't be any better than the disinfection part.

"I'm afraid that bruise balm needs to be massaged in."

"I am aware... it is worth any... discomfort... for it speeds the healing along massively."

His words are measured and barely above a whisper. In short, Renard is exhausted beyond belief! They establish a pattern after this. Nick explains what he'll do next or ask for advice regarding remedies and his zauberbiest Captain will answer accordingly before closing his eyes and thus giving his Grimm Detective permission to set to work.

Massaging in the balm hurts like hell and somewhere along Nick stops his ministrations in alarm when Renard begins coughing weakly just from pain and overstimulation of a particularly deep contusion on his upper torso.

"I'm sorry."

"No... need. Just go on."

But Nick doesn't. Instead he takes up his Captain's hand, balled to a tense fist as it is, and rubs soothing little circles with his thumb. He watches the older man carefully, ready to let go on first sign that he is uncomfortable with the touch. Renard looks, if anything, surprised and... gratified?

"Just get your breath back. There is time enough... I have nothing else planned for today."

Nick's tone is soothing and light; his attempt at humour acquitted with the ghost of a smile.

"That's good. I have... the feeling this may take a while."

"Ready for more?" Nick asks tentatively once Renard's hand has relaxed in his grip. His Captain looks like hell but he gives him a look that is equal parts challenge and resignation to his fate.

"Bring it on." Nick misses the smooth drawl. This is not about showing weakness, far from it actually. But hearing this just drives home that Renard is suffering and nearly at his rope's end.

"I'll be gentle."

"Cut that. Just do it properly. Why don't you tell me how you found me in the first place? That will have the advantage of distracting me and satisfying my curiosity."

And so Nick does. Sean closes his eyes like so many times before. A pattern. Their pattern. Their way of navigating these foreign waters. Gentle hands bringing pain, the pads of fingertips touching his cheek, his jaw. Helping him heal. Two sides of a coin. Dark and light, pain and recovery.

Sean listens to Nick's tale. He lets soft words carry him away into a world of searching, planning and plotting... right into the depth of a human soul. His Detective's soul.

The timber of Nick's voice changes, becomes raw with suppressed emotions while his hands continue their motions unchangingly. They are massaging, hurting him... but in a good way... in a way that helps him heal. There is a connection between them. Intimacy, trust, familiarity. Two beings damaged from recent events, both hurt though in a different way.

Yes, Nick has taken damage tonight, more maybe than even the extensive damage to Sean's body.

"The others helped me gather all information I needed. Once I saw Aeldridge and his group I knew what I had to do."

"No. You knew before, didn't you? You became the embodiment of cold-blooded Grimm even before you saw them."

There's a long stretch of tense silence but Sean can wait.

"Yes." A single word expressing a myriad of things. This night has nearly broken his Grimm. He hears shame and revulsion but also uncompromising honesty. Burkhardt has walked into this with open eyes. He knows what he has done and why.

"You did it all on purpose. You gave me an opportunity to gauge your strength just as you estimated mine when you observed me."

"Yes." Another word. Damnation. No anger, though, at least not at him. Treatment of his face is finished. Sean opens his eyes and sees his Detective cleaning his hands on a rag. There is something desperate, haunted in his far away gaze. He rubs his hands across the cloth as if he intents clean his sins away. The zauberbiest Prince does what Nick has done for him: He takes one of his hands into his own, squeezing, rubbing inconsequential patterns meant to sooth and reassure.

"You played a role tonight. That was not your true self."

The Captain's voice has gained a bit of strength, nearly going back to its former velvet quality.

"And I have played it to perfection." There's bitterness and self-discrimination.

"I would like to say that I defended myself... but that would be a lie. I provoked them on purpose. I knew no other way. That is no excuse, though."

"You defended us. Each and every wesen in that cellar was prepared to kill us. Yes, you provoked them, you played them all masterfully. But whether you had done so or not, the outcome would have been the same. The only difference being that they would have attacked us sooner and most likely killed us."

"I could have wounded that blutbad."

"They wouldn't have accepted anything less than a death and you know it well. Otherwise you wouldn't have done it. I have worked with you for years now. I know that killing truly is your last resort."

"Be that as it may. There is darkness in every one of us... tonight has driven that home quite nicely. But it is nothing that you should concern yourself with. It is something I have to live with."

Steel underlies those quiet words. Yes, Nick has been nearly broken by these events. Yes, his actions will haunt him for a long time to come but they will also be a drive for him:

To find better solutions, to avoid killing, to pull through in order to repent for what he's done! This is the true strength of this Grimm.

"You need rest now, Captain, not philosophical debates. I think I have seen some wesen equivalent of a painkiller in that box of yours. Do you want some of that? And don't deny that you are hurting. I know you are."

It is the first time Nick issues an order tonight, indirect as it may be. Sean expects his inner 'biest to rage at being commandeered but apparently the concern he detects is enough to appease those basic instincts.

And Nick's concern is not unfounded.

A fine sheen of sweat is on the man's brow now and he's hanging on to consciousness only by a thread no matter how skilled the Royal is at disguising that fact.

Other than that at least they are finished treating all those injuries. His left cheek glistens from a thick layer of salve and Nick has the feeling that it isn't as badly swollen as before.

His torso is bandaged tightly, the left knee also bound and packed with ice to reduce swelling.

When at last Renard nods an affirmative he searches through the medical kit again.

 _Allevatio Doloris_ the bottle in question reads. Nick has translated enough Latin by now to know that it means _relief of pain_.

The label only says to take 5 drops but not if those should be dissolved into water or not... Well, somehow Nick cannot see spoon-feeding go over well with his Captain so he decides on fetching a glass of water, anyway.

"It's labelled _Allevatio Doloris._ Is that the right one?"

Another nod, slower this time. Renard is reaching his limit and fast. Despite all that, though, Nick can see his Captain taking all angles into account before reaching a decision. This is not about a correct bottle. This is about anticipating repercussions of actions, about keeping one step ahead of his enemies. Why he thinks about that right now is a mystery to the Grimm but he will patiently wait for him to make up his mind.

"It is. You may pour out a dose."

These quiet words startle Nick from his uneasy musings but he doesn't give away any of this, just nods and rises to get a glass of water from the kitchen. While his Detective is away Sean tries to hold onto wakefulness. Their conversation has intrigued him enough to keep him going but now that all is settled exhaustion crashes over him like a wave.

"Sir?" The Grimm would have liked nothing better than to let the tired man sleep but if there is to be any chance of peace for the half-zauberbiest, he needs to see what Nick is doing. Renard tries to hide that he has already been half asleep but isn't all that successful.

"Sorry to keep you from resting but I need you to tell me, if I am doing this right."

They both know this is a lie. No matter how groggy Sean may be he is well aware that Nick is doing this only for him... to re-establish control and a feeling of security that his abduction has nearly destroyed. He watches as the Grimm opens a brand new water bottle, pours some into the glass and lastly measures out exactly five drops of pain reliever.

"Do you need help drinking this?"

A slow head shake.

"So you want to try alone?"

This gets him yet another gesture of denial. Nick's brows draw together in confusion and a healthy portion of scepticism. It takes a moment for him to catch on.

"This will put you to sleep, won't it? It will leave you vulnerable because you won't be able to wake up before it loses effect."

Renard gives him a long appraising look which drives home the depth of this man's suspicion. Nick shudders inwardly. To imagine such a life. As a Grimm he has made a lot of enemies but never has his situation been this bad. He can practically see the cogs turning in the Captain's head.

 _Is it wise to reveal that information or will it be to my disadvantage?_

"Yes." That word alone speaks volumes just as Nick's has done. Trust, letting down his guard... accepting his protection.

"There is no need to worry. Not today or tonight. I am here and I won't leave. I will watch over you."

Maybe it is what has happened in the last 12 hours, maybe it is quiet confidence and warmth colouring the Grimm's voice but in the end his zauberbiest Captain decides to let down his guard completely. He sits up without Nick's help, carefully takes the glass out of his hands and swallows the whole mixture. Green eyes never leave grey ones while he does this. Nick nods and shows an approving smile. He seems ridiculously happy, not at having made Renard obey but at being found worthy of his Captain's trust.

Hands are on his shoulders again, guiding him back against soft pillows. Sleep washes over him in tidal waves now. A thick blanket is drawn up over him. Warmth. Protection.

It is to these mostly foreign feelings that Sean Renard falls asleep.

GRIMMGRIMM

Captain Renard sleeps from Thursday around noon until Friday morning, first because of pain medication, then because his body needs to replenish its strength. Nick stays day and night, watching over his superior until he has regained consciousness, has eaten and is able to get by without his direct help.

Zauberbiests, even half-breeds as Sean, recover quickly. All in all he needs 6 days to heal sufficiently enough that any remaining damage is easily concealed.

When he arrives back at precinct he is welcomed back with a warmth and enthusiasm as if they all have known how closely he has escaped death but all they do know is that he came down with a hellish bout of flu. He has Wu to thank for that. The man is a genius sometimes. He appreciates their welcome, anyway. It is not often that anyone shows him this kind of positive emotion, so learning that his subordinates have missed him and been concerned for him is quite a novelty for the half-zauberbiest.

While all others have left him in peace as per Sergeant Wu's orders Nick has been a constant presence in his home. At first Sean has been wary. When the Grimm has arrived back at his doorstep Friday evening after heeding home in the morning the Prince has questioned him on his reason for returning instead of letting him in.

Once again Nick's disarming honesty has taken away any ammunition for his suspicions.

"What do you think why I have come back? If you have learned over night to take care of all those injuries alone, just tell me. If not, then you know why I am here."

And that has been that. He has stepped back to allow his Detective to enter and ever since Nick has returned in the evening to reapply salve and renew bandages.

Even when this isn't necessary anymore his Grimm comes back. He always has some excuse to return but both know that it is to check in on him. Neither of them mentions this, though.

GRIMMGRIMM

A week later Nicholas Burkhardt signs in for participation of the inter-precinct marathon which is to take place next spring. It leaves him with approximately 7 months to train and a way to do certain other things while going for his trice weekly run.

Two weeks after that Captain Sean Renard catches sight of the well known profile of a man who jogs along the very street that runs directly below his condo, high up as it is situated.

 _It seems_ , the Prince thinks as he stands tall in front of his living room window overlooking Portland, _that I have acquired not only a damn good runner for inter-precinct marathon but a personal body guard as well._

And it is true. Every time Portland's resident Grimm goes for a training run his route leads him past his Captain's housing complex and every time he checks – with a surreptitious glance upward – that the man is alive and well.

GRIMMGRIMM

Well, this is it. My take on our favourite half-zauberbiest of the receiving end of violence but also of Nick's caring side. ; )


End file.
